


can't stop it (this feeling in me)

by jeonhwa



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 21:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeonhwa/pseuds/jeonhwa
Summary: wonwoo and mingyu, over and over again.(a mg/ww drabble collection)—(xiii) even more self indulgent lost prince wonwoo and charming swindler mingy





	1. ah yeah

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to [ts](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/fridges) ♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canon-compliant // quickie before a schedule? no problem

It’s ten minutes before they have to leave for a schedule that Mingyu corners Wonwoo in his bedroom. Wonwoo stops trying to put his shirt on and stares at Mingyu, who’s standing in the doorway and fidgeting with the hem of his own sweater. 

“Hyung,” Mingyu says, in the tone that Wonwoo knows means _can we fuck really quick I swear I’ll be really quiet this time no one will know I swear_. 

“ _No_ , Mingyu, we have ten minutes left and Seungcheol-hyung is going to murder both you and me if I show up with my fucking fly unzipped again.” Wonwoo gives Mingyu the best glare he can, tugging his shirt on more forcefully.

“But _hyung_ ,” Mingyu repeats, with just a little bit of a whine added in it this time, and that, of course, is how Wonwoo finds himself sitting on his bed with his jeans tugged down to his ankles and Mingyu kneeling between his legs.

“Nine minutes,” Wonwoo hisses underneath his breath, but his hand settles onto Mingyu’s head, tugging at his hair. “Nine minutes or else you’re fucking dead, Kim Mingyu.” 

“That’s okay.” Mingyu pushes at Wonwoo’s hips to get him to scoot upward onto the bed, and he tugs Wonwoo’s boxers down. “Oh hi, little Wonwoo, haven’t seen you in a while. Aren’t you excited to see me again?” 

“Oh my god, can you not talk about my dick like that? It’s gr— _oh_.” Wonwoo’s mortification gets swallowed up in a low groan once Mingyu leans forward and takes Wonwoo’s cock in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out. Mingyu keeps a hand braced on the inside of Wonwoo’s thigh, his other hand reaching back, and Wonwoo nearly jumps when Mingyu’s finger circles his hole. “Holy fucking shit, can you _not_? Kim Mingyu!” 

Mingyu presses a finger inside, crooking it slightly, and there’s a slick _pop_ as he lifts his head up from Wonwoo’s cock to grin up at him. “Oh, you’re still kinda open from last night, hyung. Wanna see if you can come from just my fingers and mouth?” 

Wonwoo very resolutely does _not_ want to say “no, I want your dick in me,” so he tugs on Mingyu’s hair, bringing him back in. “Fuck you, but fine. You seven minutes left.” 

“Stop caring so much about the time,” Mingyu flat-out _whines_ this time, but he takes Wonwoo’s cock in hand anyway. “Seungcheol-hyung isn’t really going to murder you if we’re late.” 

“Yeah, he so will, so can we stop talking about him,” Wonwoo grumbles, winding his fingers into Mingyu’s hair and pulling again. “Now hurry up.” 

Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice. He licks a broad stripe down Wonwoo’s cock before taking him in again, bobbing his head up and down. When Mingyu adds a second finger to the first, Wonwoo shudders, his entire body shaking, and it’s _too much_. Mingyu sucks him down again, tonguing the slit, and as he presses upwards and _just right_ with his fingers, Wonwoo comes with a shout stuck in his throat, his thighs clamping together around Mingyu’s head. 

Mingyu pulls off, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “So, how’d I do?” 

“Two minutes left,” Wonwoo says, and he takes the hand that Mingyu offers him. His legs are just a bit unsteady, and he leans against Mingyu’s side as he tries to regain his balance. 

“Oh, so I passed! Do I get a prize?”

Wonwoo is about to say _no, what the fuck, of course not_ , when Mingyu is suddenly uncomfortably close, suddenly in his face, and then Mingyu leans forward to kiss Wonwoo.

Mingyu tastes like orange juice and come, and Wonwoo wrinkles his nose as he shoves a laughing Mingyu away. “You taste nasty,” he mutters, tugging his boxers and jeans back on. 

“That’s your fault, though, isn’t it, hyung?” Mingyu counters, a bright grin on his lips, and Wonwoo can’t quite find it in himself to argue, even though it was technically all Mingyu’s fault in the first place.

Mingyu follows behind Wonwoo, humming, as they make their way down towards the van, and any hope that Wonwoo had that they wouldn’t be caught is immediately quashed when Soonyoung pokes his head out of the van and hollers, “Jeon Wonwoo! Your fucking fly is down!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was coerced into this don't @ me, the rating will go down in later drabbles (maybe)


	2. no fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic // it's so hot

It’s morning. It’s bright outside and all of the birds are chirping, and Wonwoo would normally think _wow, what a great day it’s going to be today_. Except not today, because there’s a large and heavy arm slung over his waist and a leg thrown over his and it’s hot and stuffy and Wonwoo wants _out_.

“Get the fuck off of me, Mingyu,” Wonwoo hisses, rolling over and disloging the leg slung over his. The arm on his waist is still there, though, so Wonwoo reaches down to grab the arm and push it back towards its owner. He watches as Mingyu snuffles in his sleep before blearily blinking awake.

“What,” Mingyu says, his voice still low and husky with sleep, and Wonwoo considers it a point in his favor that he hasn’t succumbed to letting Mingyu cuddle him again after just hearing his “I just woke up” voice. It’s too damn hot for that, and Wonwoo’s going to put his foot down today. “I was having such a good dream.” 

“Go have a good dream away from me.” Wonwoo pushes at Mingyu’s chest. “It’s so hot, how can you even stand this? It’s so sticky and gross and _ugh_.” 

Mingyu reaches forward for Wonwoo again, and Wonwoo has just a brief split second of freedom before he’s being pulled back into Mingyu’s chest again. Mingyu noses against Wonwoo’s neck, blowing a raspberry into his skin. “But I always sleep best when I’m with you.” 

To be fair, Wonwoo considers it. He gives it just the briefest of considerations before he decides that _nope, he’s definitely laying down the rules today_ and pushes Mingyu away again. “Fuck off, talk to me when we have air conditioning again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it........ is so hot i hate summer :--( also i love domestic au :-----(((((


	3. say yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic // save water, everyone

Wonwoo is already in the shower when Mingyu gets home from work. He hates it, hates how monotonous and repetitive his days always are at work, where he’s just pushing papers and punching numbers in, over and over and over again. It’s fun sometimes, when he gets to go overseas to Hong Kong and Singapore, to Tokyo and Manila, but this is the one part of his day that he’ll never get tired of, the one part of his day he’ll always look forward to. He loves coming home, when he gets to unwind and forget about the day’s stresses. 

He beelines for the bedroom, dropping off his briefcase before turning and looking at the bathroom door. He hears the notes of Im Changjung’s latest single drifting through the door, which means that Wonwoo hasn’t noticed that he’s home yet and is using the shower as his own personal noraebang booth. A smile tugs at the edges of Mingyu’s lips. Good.

Wonwoo keeps singing even when Mingyu pushes the door just slightly— it’s open, which of course it is, since why would Wonwoo close it if he’s alone— and he knows he hasn’t been found out yet. It’s only when Mingyu loosens his belt and lets it fall to the floor with a sharp clink that the music stops. Mingyu sees Wonwoo stop through the shower curtain before he pokes his head through the slit in the side. 

“What.” 

Wonwoo’s hair is dripping wet, and there’s a mildly annoyed frown curving at Wonwoo’s lips, and he holds the shower curtain close to him like a shield even though Mingyu’s certain that his fingers and tongue have traced every angle and curve of Wonwoo’s body hundreds of times before. Mingyu can’t help the laugh that escapes his throat, and the furrow between Wonwoo’s eyebrows only gets deeper.

“I’m showering.”

“I know,” Mingyu says easily. He lets his slacks and briefs drop to the floor, and he watches the way Wonwoo’s eyes follow the movement. He makes short work of his tie and his dress shirt, tossing them onto the counter— he’ll deal with those later, just not now, not when Wonwoo’s looking back at him with intent and purpose now. 

“I’m already clean,” Wonwoo puts up a barely admirable front of a protest, in what they both know is a last-ditch attempt. “And you’re nasty.” 

“Can’t I just get clean together with you?” Mingyu bats his eyelashes at Wonwoo, and Wonwoo’s entire face crumples up into an expression that just screams _I’m very unimpressed right now, try harder_ , so Mingyu coughs and gets in before Wonwoo decides to change his mind. 

“You smell gross,” Wonwoo informs him unhelpfully, and Mingyu snorts.

“How could I smell gross? I’ve been in an office all day.” 

“You just do. Well, while you’re here, could you just pass me the shampoo? The one that smells like oranges?” Mingyu reaches behind him and fumbles around for the container before handing it over. “Thanks, you’re so useful.” 

Wonwoo reaches up to ruffle Mingyu’s hair, patting his cheek as he goes, and Mingyu grabs his wrist, pressing closer to Wonwoo and crowding him against the tiles. “Hyung, I really missed you today.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows arch upwards. It’s kind of amazing how he manages to do that even when Mingyu has him cornered. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, a lot.” Mingyu rolls his hips experimentally against Wonwoo’s side, not even bothering to hold back the moans this time. His cock is pressed up next to Wonwoo’s thigh, and Mingyu can see that Wonwoo’s starting to harden too. He reaches down to give Wonwoo’s cock a few good tugs, thumbing the slit until Wonwoo lets his head fall back onto the tiles.

“Alright.” 

“Alright?” Mingyu repeats, and Wonwoo’s gaze fixes on him. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Wonwoo curls a leg around Mingyu’s hip, both to draw Mingyu closer and to give him easier access, so Mingyu takes the chance. He lets go of Wonwoo’s cock and presses his fingers against Wonwoo’s hole, teasing around the outside before he presses one, then two in. 

He’s lucky that Wonwoo had been up for a round of morning sex, because otherwise, Mingyu thinks that he’d just be looking at mutual handjobs right now. Not that handjobs suck or anything, but Mingyu’s always loved watching Wonwoo’s face when he’s filled up. Wonwoo reaches downward, wrapping his fingers around both of their cocks before he strokes them in time with the pace Mingyu’s set for his fingers, pumping in and out of Wonwoo. 

They’d nearly slipped and given themselves concussions the first time they’d done this because Wonwoo had decided to wrap both of his legs around Mingyu’s hips, and even though that had seemed a great idea at the time, they’d quickly realized that letting Mingyu, of all people, be the one to support the weight of two grown men in a slippery and wet shower, wasn’t the best idea.

They both know better now. Wonwoo keeps a hand pressed against the wall while his other works both of their cocks, while Mingyu braces himself over Wonwoo with his free hand. Mingyu wishes they could go further, but they can’t, not when they’re in the shower like this. Maybe when they get out of the shower and get back to bed.

The pressure is just almost too much to bear now, their movements getting more and more frantic and their hushed gasps getting more and more choked. Mingyu surges forward to swallow Wonwoo’s moans when Mingyu scissors his fingers just right, and Wonwoo pulls away, breathless, to mutter, low and wicked and filthy in the space between them, as he twists his wrists just like that, “That’s right, come for me, I want to see you come for me.” 

Mingyu comes with Wonwoo’s name on his lips, and he has to hold Wonwoo up after he stumbles. “That good?” Mingyu jokes, and Wonwoo purses his lips at him before deciding that it’s not worth spending more air on.

Wonwoo settles for leaning upwards and catching Mingyu’s lips in a kiss, and he pulls away just slightly before reaching behind him and pushing the same bottle of orange-scented shampoo into Mingyu’s chest. “You need this, you seriously smell nasty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hbd 2 me i love shower sex i'm Not Gonna Lie ty for following along with these crazy ass domestic ass adventures


	4. healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic // cooking 101 with jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo stares at the recipe in the cookbook, then back at the ingredients in front of him, then back at his cookbook. It's supposed to be simple, but really, it's proving to be anything but. He sighs, putting the cookbook down so he can wash his hands again. Rinsing and cleaning the chicken was easy enough, but all of the rice he's trying to stuff it with keeps falling out. The cloves of garlic aren't much better at all, and Wonwoo is this close to throwing everything away and ordering some samgyetang from the restaurant down the street.

Except he can't. He's determined to finish this himself, and he'll see it through to the end. He grits his teeth and focuses on just getting through each step. First things first: get the rice and garlic to stop falling out. It takes him another five minutes, but Wonwoo manages to get it all together, and barely suppresses a triumphant yell when it looks kinda-sorta like the pictures in the cookbook. He's terrible enough at cooking that even this is a victory, and if it's good enough, he'll take it.

He's in the middle of getting through the recipe, the stuffed chicken simmering on the stove with the jujubes, ginseng, and ginger, when he hears soft footfalls behind him.

"Hyung?" 

Wonwoo turns. It's Mingyu, wearing the same clothes he'd worn to bed last night and wrapping their blanket around his shoulders like a cape. His nose is red and his eyes have dark shadows underneath them, and when he rubs his eyes, Wonwoo can see that he still has a tissue crumpled up in his hand.

"What are you making?" Mingyu's voice is scratchy, not from sleep, but from how sore his throat's been lately. He sneezes into his hand, and Wonwoo's eyes track the way he wipes his hand on his flannel pants. It's nasty, but Wonwoo doesn't quite have the heart to tell him so when he's sick. He'll tell him some other day.

"Samgyetang," Wonwoo replies, then adds, automatically, "Well, kinda. I don't know how good it's going to be."

Mingyu shuffles forward, dropping the tissue in the wastebasket before he reaches up to tug Wonwoo closer against his chest. His fingers come up to lace lazily against Wonwoo's chest, settling above his heart. Wonwoo wonders if Mingyu can feel his heartbeat, thrumming steadily through his veins. He swallows his near-automatic reflex to tell Mingyu to stop touching him and go back to bed already. "Can I try some?"

"Sure, but try to be nice, okay? This is my first time making it." Wonwoo takes the ladle and scoops out a small spoonful, lifting it up behind him to Mingyu's mouth. Mingyu hums as he tastes it, smacking his lips once he's done. Wonwoo waits for just a second for Mingyu's judgment, and it comes when Mingyu unlaces his fingers and reaches forward for the container of salt, passing it wordlessly to Wonwoo.

"Just a little bit, hyung. But it's good," Mingyu murmurs against Wonwoo's ear. Wonwoo taps a bit of the salt into the pot, stirring it in. He knows Mingyu's watching.

"This okay?" Wonwoo asks.

"Yeah, you put in just enough." Mingyu reaches down, and instead of lacing his own fingers together again, he takes Wonwoo's left hand in his right. The ring on Wonwoo's finger shines lazily in the afternoon sun, and Wonwoo knows that Mingyu sees it, too. Mingyu presses a kiss behind Wonwoo's ear, feather-light and soft. "It’s perfect."

Yeah, Wonwoo thinks as Mingyu holds him closer, Mingyu's heart beating in time with Wonwoo's and their fingers intertwined. It's perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very..... sappy.......... very............... gross....................... i h8 them [(i love them)](https://twitter.com/mw_04060717/status/897071891386515456)


	5. fronting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic // being sick sucks, but wonwoo sucks even more

“Wonwoo-hyung," Mingyu whines in the voice Wonwoo knows Mingyu knows Wonwoo _hates_  the most. He hates it twenty-five percent because Mingyu needs to act his damn age, but seventy-five percent because that means he wants Wonwoo to do something for him. 

"What," Wonwoo sighs. 

"Bring me some soup."

"No," Wonwoo says flatly, already standing up and backing away from the bed. 

Mingyu fakes a cough. "I’m dying, Wonwoo-hyung. Save me."

Wonwoo squints at him, crossing his arms over his chest as Mingyu's eyes take on a desperately pleading look. "You're not a baby, Mingyu, you can _walk_. You're just sick, it's called the flu, and for the last time, you're _not_  going to die."

"Okay, you don't know that for certain. I could die and you would feel bad for the rest of your life because you didn't get me the samgyetang that you made yourself when I wanted it the most." Mingyu's sad frown then morphs into a crooked grin, one that has every hair on the back of Wonwoo's neck standing on end. "And you're right, I’m not a baby, but I’ll be yours—”  

"Nope," Wonwoo says, walking out of the room and ignoring Mingyu's echoing peals of laughter. "Nope, nope, nope."

He still finds himself ladling out a bowl of soup and carrying it back to their bedroom, and if he feels a strange sort of blossoming in his chest when Mingyu smiles at him— the warm and soft kind, and not the one that's laced with suggestion— well. Wonwoo won't mention it if Mingyu doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sick too why won't anyone bring me soup


	6. habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic // mingyu is off on a business trip

Mingyu's going to be out of the country for a few weeks. "It'll be fine, hyung, it's only for a couple of days," Mingyu had said when he first left. "I'll be back before you even know it." 

Before Wonwoo even knew it, a couple of days turned into a week, then into a few weeks. Mingyu texts him sometimes, and sometimes they try to call each other, but the time difference between Seoul and London is just too big. Wonwoo wakes up to missed calls every so often, and with each blinking notification comes yet another sinking feeling in his stomach.

He doesn't want to admit it, but the apartment is empty without Mingyu. Haneul keeps waiting outside in the small fenced-in yard on the balcony they have for Mingyu to come outside and play fetch with him, and even Areum curls up in the side of the couch Mingyu usually sits in when they're watching tv now. He feels Mingyu's absence in the unused toothbrush next to his own, in the pots and pans hanging unused from their hooks, in the empty space in their bed. 

It's why Wonwoo's standing there in the kitchen on a Monday afternoon. He's just finished the draft for one of his articles he'll submit next week, and he'll wait until he reads it over for errors before sending it in to his editor. He stares down at his phone, down at the message still blinking in their chat room. It's just after dawn for Mingyu right now, and Wonwoo doesn't even know if he's awake or not, but it's worth a shot.

_have u had breakfast yet?_

Ugh. Too sappy. Wonwoo erases it and bites his lip. Areum curls around his socked feet, purring, and he reaches down absentmindedly to scratch her between the ears.

_what did u do today? r u bored yet?_

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose. Too needy?

_come home soon, i miss u_

Wonwoo rolls his eyes to the ceiling and curses his fingers for ever typing those words out. Then he curses his fingers again because _holy shit_ he's just sent the message to Mingyu instead of erasing it all and now he wants nothing more than for the ground underneath him to open up and swallow him whole. 

"I want to die," Wonwoo says into the air, staring at the ceiling. "I hope I die."

Haneul barks angrily, always the optimist, and Areum purrs, seemingly in agreement. Then he hears another sound—the kakao notification, and _goddammit_  Mingyu's messaged him back and it's a fucking— 

_:P_

"I'll kill him instead," Wonwoo decides, because even though his ears are still burning, he can still funnel that into a vaguely homicidal instinct. Haneul whines. "Don't try to defend your dad. No, stop looking at me like that."

Wonwoo's phone buzzes again. 

_i miss u 2 : ( ill come home soon, love u_

Okay. Mingyu can live for another day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of these rly sappy domestic drabbles? pls blame twt user tnys17 for them it's not my fault


	7. space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> space au // mingyu comes home

six months. 

one hundred and eighty-six days.

that’s how long mingyu’s been gone for, how long mingyu’s been hundreds and hundreds of kilometers away from wonwoo for. wonwoo’s spent the last six months watching the skies for any sign of mingyu, for the slightest indication that mingyu is out there somewhere. 

he’s set up a telescope he bought from a hobby shop in mingyu’s office, and sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he’ll drag himself and a blanket over to the office that has mingyu’s fingerprints all over it so he can press his face close to the telescope and peer into the inky blackness of space. most nights, he doesn’t see anything, but sometimes, he’ll catch the image of a small dot passing over the moon, and then wonwoo knows— knows that that’s the international space station, knows that that’s where mingyu is.

he doesn’t have to stay awake at night anymore, though. he doesn’t need to lie in bed and think about how empty it is without someone next to him, doesn’t need to pretend that the left side of the bed is someone else’s, doesn’t need to miss the arm slung over his waist in the morning and the legs tangled with his at night. 

mingyu is coming home, and wonwoo’s spent the last five hours on his phone tracking the flight mingyu’s taking back to incheon from moscow. it takes nearly everything wonwoo has not to burst out in tears of relief when he sees the words next to mingyu’s flight change to _landed_.

it’s easy to spot mingyu weaving in and out of the crowd, and wonwoo can pinpoint the exact moment mingyu sees him because he’s darting over, his long legs carrying him across the arrivals hall. mingyu barrels into him, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder swinging around dangerously, and wonwoo nearly stumbles. mingyu rights them both, grinning at wonwoo with a smile that takes up his entire face. 

“i’m back, hyung,” mingyu says, and his voice is the same, even if it’s marked with sleep. 

“welcome home,” wonwoo murmurs into the space between them. he threads his fingers into mingyu’s hair— it’s coarser now, shorter now, and wonwoo wonders just how much mingyu’s changed. he smooths his palms over mingyu’s jawline, brushing over mingyu’s nose and thumbing over mingyu’s lips. 

he leans forward and mingyu leans down, and even six months later, mingyu tastes like nothing but _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda... sorta... space au mingy is an astronaut and ww is a software engineer this was based on a comic on twt!!


	8. can't see the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> space au // training for being in space and actually living on a space station are very, very different, and mingyu doesn't want to admit that he might be a bit homesick

one month.

thirty-one days.

that’s how long mingyu’s been gone for, how long mingyu’s been hundreds and hundreds of kilometers away from wonwoo for. mingyu thinks, not without a twinge of longing, that even though some of his training went towards what was essentially prevention of homesickness, he might as well not have taken it at all.

he’s the only korean astronaut aboard the international space station, and even though all of them are required to speak english, no one else speaks the language he’d grown up with. it’s almost paradoxical how mingyu can feel so lonely surrounded by so many other brilliant minds and people, but he does. here, he can talk to the others about the composition of martian soil samples or the growth of arabidopsis seedlings, but there’s no one to talk to about how much he misses eating corn cheese or yakult soju at the local noraebang.

mingyu knows there’s a very easy solution to all of this homesickness— he’s allowed to call home with the softphones linked through their laptops, but sometimes, he’ll find himself dialing wonwoo’s number and then clearing it all before the connection can be completed. he’s forgotten that time flows differently on earth, that even though it’s waking hours for mingyu it’s still technically three in the morning for wonwoo.

on moments like these, he’ll go back to his drawer of carefully arranged samples of arabidopsis plants in the kibou module reserved for laboratory testing. the seedlings are small and fragile, their thin stalks reaching out towards the artificial lights they’ve installed, and mingyu thinks that he’s more similar to them than he’s ever really bothered to pay attention to. in his search for the stars, he’s also been uprooted from home and brought here. it’s not too bad, though, when he gets to look down.

he can see the earth from the cupola module, where mingyu likes to float over to if he has time. usually, there are other astronauts there, engineers and biologists alike brought together by the shared experience of looking at the entirety of humanity on a small twinkling marble no larger than a hand’s width— the entirety of humanity except everyone here. today, though, it’s empty, and mingyu drifts over to the largest of the seven viewing windows. it’s sheer luck that their station’s rotated to view the eastern hemisphere: mingyu can see the green dot of the korean peninsula from here. wonwoo is there somewhere.

he swallows, his throat suddenly parched, and when he looks down at the watch that wonwoo had gotten him for his last birthday, he realizes that it’s just after five in the afternoon on earth. he hasn’t changed the time settings on his watch at all, partly out of sentimentality and partly so he knows to try to sleep at the same time wonwoo usually does.

the phone connection through his laptop is easy enough to set up. mingyu does idle somersaults in the air while he waits for it to load, and when he hears a beep, he holds his breath.

“hello?” wonwoo’s voice is tinny, filtered through numerous communications satellites, but it’s unmistakably _his_.

“hi, hyung,” mingyu says, and when wonwoo launches into a scathing diatribe about _why did it take you so long to call?_ and _have you been eating?_  and _so how many of your plants have you accidentally on purpose killed so far?_ , he smiles. it’s been a month of feeling alone a hundred thousand kilometers above the surface fo the earth, but for the first time, he feels like he’s _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was 99% inspired by cassini's grand finale (check [this](http://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/2017/09/cassini-saturn-nasa-3d-grand-tour/) out if you're interested in fun space things!!) and 100% motivated by my lack of desire to write my paper if anyone has a degree in education law hit me u p ;--))


	9. don't wanna cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern au // i'm okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning it's sad please blame twt user tnys17

_(i'm okay.)_

 

the other side of the bed is cold and empty when wonwoo wakes up. he pauses, his breath hitching in his throat as he listens for the once-familiar sounds of breakfast cooking in the kitchen or water running in the bathroom, before he remembers. there’s no one else there to cook him eggs in the morning, no one else there to use up all the toothpaste and then pretend he didn’t, no one else to call wonwoo’s house a home.

wonwoo’s grip tightens in the sheets. the bed is suddenly too large, too expansive, for just him alone, and he thinks that this, like everything else that’s happened in the past week, is a nightmare. it’s a nightmare that he can’t wake up from, a nightmare that he’ll have to live out for as long as he can, a nightmare that feels too real and too _not_ at the same time, like he’s toeing the line between dreams and reality.

the proof is there, though, in how wonwoo still sleeps on the right side of the bed without knowing why, except he does— _he’d_  insisted on taking the left side when they first moved in, laughing that the left side of the bed was softer somehow, and wonwoo had quietly agreed. the proof is there in the pants that still show up in the laundry that are a size too large for his own waist, in the pots and pans in the kitchen that wonwoo’s never used, in the cup and toothbrush still left in the bathroom.

the signs are all still there, every single reminder of _him_ , every note and memento that _he’d_  left behind, and wonwoo can’t bring himself to toss it all out. except he knows he has to, has to move on and get rid of everything, has to slap a smile onto his face and pretend that he’s alright. wonwoo breathes in and breathes out. the sheets don’t smell like _him_ anymore, and his heart jolts at that realization.

for the first time in nearly five years, he’s alone.

he can do this. he’s always been strong and always solitary. he doesn’t need constant reminders of the life he’d once shared with someone else. he’s fine on his own.

  

_(i'm not okay.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi........ i have some drabbles and wips of other aus i might start dumping here 8_8 hope you guys don't mind the lapslock! i'll be doing this for maybe one or two more and then it's back to the caps as regularly scheduled haha


	10. alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern au // i don't miss you

_(i don't miss you.)_

 

mingyu’s always liked minghao’s couch. he’s liked it ever since their days at university, when he would crash at minghao’s place after a night out at the local noraebang. it’s warm and soft and fluffy, and the cushions are plush enough that if he lies down on it, he can practically sink in. now, though, it’s hard to feel any of that same contentment and happiness. he just feels empty inside, hollow, like his soul’s been carved out of him.

he doesn’t have that much with him. he has just a backpack with some clothes and his essentials, things that he needs to survive. there are his earbuds and his phone, his wallet and his passport, his sketchbook and his pens. he has everything he would normally need to feel safe and sound wherever he is in the world; except now, he doesn’t feel safe and sound at all.

he’s missing the one person he could travel the world with and feel like he’s still at home no matter where he is— no matter if he’s in tokyo or in shanghai, in manila or in sydney. mingyu’s fingers curl into the couch cushion. it’s only been a few hours, but the silent glances minghao keeps giving him are almost too much to bear. he can live with being alone, he can live with being on his own, but this— he can’t deal with pity.

mingyu exhales, a shuddering breath that escapes his lungs nearly violently. it’s easy to let all of the arguments and all of the fights get to the forefront of his mind in the heat of the moment, but now that he’s here, all of it bleeds out of him as easily as anything else ever could. it’s hard to let all of it get to him when he’s surrounded by just his thoughts, by all of the memories and all of the love that make all of the arguments seem so trivial in comparison.

they’d shared five good years together, five years where they both learned what it meant to give and to take, to love and to be loved. it feels like nearly an eternity ago when they first met, and mingyu could tell himself he doesn’t want it back, that he’s fine, but they’re all lies.

 

_(i miss you so much.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [stares into the sun] i hope....... dwc era........ never ends............ ALSO NOV 6 HYPE HYPE HYPE


	11. swimming fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern au // wonwoo is a journalist and mingyu is a rich kid with a pool, and when they're bored, the solution is obvious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * pls note: very fragmented + please pretend they talk about their lives n stuff before the pool thing happens k thank u

there’s very little that jeon wonwoo would leave his house on a saturday for. weekends are his rest days, his only days where he gets to just lie down and stay in bed for as long as he humanly can. they’re the only days where he can just turn his phone off and curl up in his pillows and blankets and ignore the real world for as long as he wants to.

it’s why, when he’s halfway through his mid-afternoon nap and a series of obnoxiously loud knocking sounds at the door, wonwoo ignores it and buries his face even further into the pillows. 

there’s blessed, blissful silence for another three seconds, and then the knocking resumes, even louder and more insistent than before. wonwoo considers ignoring it, but as he rolls over onto his back, he realizes that there’s really only one person who would be at his door at this time on a saturday afternoon. 

he stares up at the ceiling, considering his options, before he rolls out of bed. there’s really nothing he can do at this point, since he knows that if he doesn’t open it, he’s going to have to get his door repaired again. he tugs on a sweatshirt, running a hand through his already messy hair, as he pads to the door. he doesn’t need to look through the peephole to know who’s there.

“what,” wonwoo says, jerking the door open, “do you want.” 

“hi,” soonyoung says, his fist still poised above his head and ready to knock. there’s a wide grin stretched across his face, and wonwoo doesn’t like the look of that at all. 

“it’s saturday.” 

“exactly.” soonyoung follows wonwoo back into his apartment and closes the door behind him. he follows on his heels as wonwoo crawls back into bed, and it’s then that soonyoung grabs at his ankle. “get out and get dressed, lazyass.” 

“no, why? it’s _saturday_ ,” wonwoo groans, rolling back over and trying to ignore the weight settled on the edge of the mattress. “why are you even here?” 

“i’m here to save your career.” 

“excuse me?” wonwoo cracks an eye open, and soonyoung’s still looking at him with that same insufferable grin. it morphs into something softer, something more genuine, and that’s what makes wonwoo sit up. “what is it? tell me.” 

“you know that one politician, the minister of justice, right?” soonyoung asks, and wonwoo very nearly rolls his eyes— there isn’t a single person in the entire country who doesn’t know of him, given the numerous headlines he’s made in recent times, and soonyoung knows that. “wait, stupid question,” soonyoung amends. “anyway, he and his family are holding a charity fundraiser tonight. something for the son’s philanthropy causes, like dogs or cats? an animal shelter, i think. you should come.” 

“why?” 

“do you really need me to spell it out for you?” wonwoo stares at him, and soonyoung sighs, throwing his arms up in the air. “dude, you’re writing an article about him. this is going to be so good for quotes.” 

“no, i mean, why didn’t you tell me about this? why didn’t i know about this until you literally just barged into my place?” 

soonyoung slants a glance over to the side, and wonwoo follows his gaze over to the nightstand, where his phone is lying very conspicuously turned off.

“oh. about that—” 

“ _oh_ is right. get dressed, it starts at six and we have to make you look pretty for the pictures.” soonyoung pats the camera bag at his side. “i’ll get you some nice ones for the piece, don’t worry.” 

wonwoo doesn’t even register what he’s saying— he’s too busy trying to figure out where the tie he’d left from the last black tie event he’d been to is. he tugs on a pair of slacks and digs through his closet for a dress shirt that doesn’t look too wrinkly. “do you know where my ties are? it’s been the longest time since i had to wear one.” 

“yeah, ever since the pulitzer ceremony.” soonyoung reaches around wonwoo’s side to pull out the top shelf of his drawers, and he fishes out a charcoal grey tie. “looking for this?” 

wonwoo takes the tie from soonyoung’s fingers. “yeah. thanks.” 

“don’t mention it.” 

 

wonwoo’s known soonyoung for just over half of his entire lifetime. they’d grown up together, going from sharing sandbox tools to hopes and dreams, and it’s probably only by some force of nature that they’re both still alive and well into their twenties. they’d lived on the same block growing up, then lived in the same apartment during university, and when it came time to work at the same newspaper as a journalist and a photographer respectively, wonwoo had known that if they lived together, he’d probably end up snapping in the first week.

he trusts soonyoung more than he trusts himself sometimes, though, which is why he lets himself climb into the back of soonyoung’s car. it’s gotten them through their university days, and it shows its age. wonwoo thinks, privately, that soonyoung should use some of his salary to get a new car, but he also knows that he’s insanely attached to it. the ride there is decent enough, but when they get there, wonwoo’s suddenly hyperaware that there are _cameras_ everywhere. 

there’s a man staring at him as soon as he steps out of soonyoung’s car, a man who looks to be about wonwoo’s age. he’s tall and handsome and he looks extremely familiar, but wonwoo can’t quite place where he knows him from. soonyoung appears out of nowhere and grabs wonwoo’s elbow, leading him through the throng of bodies and towards the center of the foyer.

then the people around them clear, and in front of them is the minister of justice, and wonwoo can’t breathe. 

“i’m kwon soonyoung, a photographer for the korea times, and this is my partner, jeon wonwoo,” soonyoung says, bowing, and wonwoo does the same. “thank you so much for the invitation, it’s really a pleasure to be here tonight.” 

“please, don’t mention it. i know you two, i’m an avid reader of yours. i saw your piece in the _times_. quite a way with words you have there. no wonder you snagged the pulitzer.” the minister smiles. “you too, kwon soonyoung. your photographs are amazing.” 

wonwoo flushes, biting back the grin that’s threatening to creep across his face. it’s one thing to hear praise from his editor through an email, but it’s another thing entirely to hear it straight from the mouth of one of the country’s most influential men. “it was nothing, sir. it was just a stroke of luck. there were many other pieces that deserved the prize as much as mine did.” 

“i doubt there was any writer who could’ve written about the things you did in such an incredible manner. you were respectful of your subjects and the horrors they endured in such conditions, but yet, you managed to highlight how prevalent poverty is in our world.” 

“what my dad is trying to say is,” and the same man from before, the tall guy from earlier who’d been staring at him, pushes through to where wonwoo’s standing, “is that you’re a great writer. right, dad?” 

the night passes more and more easily the more drinks and appetizers wonwoo has, and he realizes, distantly, that it's getting dark. he should be getting home soon, and he lets mingyu know. what he doesn't expect is the hand that folds itself around his wrist, tugging him back against a broad chest. 

“hey, i’m not going to let you drive home when you’re drunk. it’s so late right now, i don’t know if we can call any cabs for you, too.” mingyu bites his lip— he’s seen him do that before, so it’s a nervous habit, wonwoo manages to force through the haze of alcohol in his mind. 

“i can’t just _stay_ here,” wonwoo laughs, stumbling before he catches himself on the wall. out of the corner of his eye, he can make out mingyu jerking forward abruptly, like he’d made an aborted move to catch wonwoo. 

“yeah, you can.” 

wonwoo squints at mingyu. “you’re letting a stranger stay in your house overnight? what if i— what if i steal all of your furniture?"

mingyu chuckles, a soft and warm sound. “i’d like to see you try. here, let me. you can have the guest room, and i can give you some pajamas to wear if you want.” 

wonwoo squints at mingyu again even as mingyu takes a careful grasp on wonwoo’s elbow to lead him upstairs. “wait, how do i know you’re not going to dump me in a bathtub and— and— steal my kidneys or something? kidneys are very valuable nowadays.” 

“yeah,” mingyu mutters, mostly to himself, since wonwoo has to strain to catch what he’s saying. “you’re definitely too drunk to get home on your own.” 

wonwoo follows mingyu on unsteady legs to the guest room, and mingyu leads wonwoo to sit on the edge of the bed before he leaves. “i’m just going to grab a change of clothes for you, just wait here, okay? i think they should fit you alright, but they might be a little oversized.” 

wonwoo hums in affirmation and looks around. it’s nice and simple, the decor minimalist and tastefully arranged. he lets himself fall back onto the pillows, and almost immediately, he can feel himself sinking into them. the door opens again, and it’s mingyu with a stack of clothes in his arms. wonwoo tries to push himself back up so mingyu doesn’t have to come over, but mingyu rushes over before dropping the clothes on the bed next to wonwoo. 

wonwoo picks them up, eyeing them carefully. they’re a worn green sweatshirt and a pair of blue flannel pants, and he looks up at mingyu. “thanks, mingyu. really.” 

“don’t mention it. i’ll be just down the hall, so just yell if you need anything.” mingyu makes his way back to the door, and he looks back at wonwoo. “goodnight.” 

“g’night,” wonwoo replies, and he watches as mingyu turns off the lights and shuts the door behind him. he stares down at the clothes in his hands before mustering up what motor skills he can to tug his clothes off and pull mingyu’s on. they don’t fit, the sleeves of the sweatshirt extending past his fingertips and the hems of the sweatpants bunching up around wonwoo’s ankles, but that, wonwoo decides, won’t be a problem at all.

 

“there’s something i’ve always wanted to try,” mingyu says, pulling away and licking at his lips, and wonwoo looks over at him, just the tiniest bit irritated.

“what is it?”

mingyu reaches over for wonwoo’s arm, his fingers closing around wonwoo’s wrist. wonwoo follows him through the house, going through the foyer, and when mingyu pushes open the sliding glass doors leading to the pool, wonwoo starts to get an idea of what mingyu wants. the half-formed haze of an idea solidifies completely when mingyu stops by the pool and grins toothily, tugging wonwoo in to kiss him again. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” wonwoo mutters, halfheartedly pushing at mingyu’s chest. “oh my god, pool sex, i can’t fucking believe you.” 

“relax, it’s fine. i swear.” mingyu’s grin, self-assured and confident, doesn’t do much to allay wonwoo’s nerves. 

“first off, this is the pool, if you haven’t noticed. second, we’re in public, and third, this is the fucking pool,” wonwoo hisses. “what if someone walks in?” 

“no one’s going to come here, seriously, and no one’s going to see, since it’s night right now. we’re far enough from neighbors that they’d need a telescope if they want to watch. besides,” and mingyu starts walking closer to wonwoo and wonwoo starts taking a step backward, then two, “i’ve got you.” 

wonwoo has just a split second to process what’s going on before he feels himself crashing through the icy surface of the water, and he splutters as he kicks his way back up. he shakes his head, sending water everywhere, before leveling mingyu as good of a glare as he can muster. mingyu’s laughing, his hands folded over his stomach, and before wonwoo can stop himself, he’s grabbing at the hem of mingyu’s slacks and _pulling_ until mingyu tumbles gracelessly into the water with him.

“you deserved it,” is all wonwoo has to say when mingyu comes up for air, treading water just a hand’s width away from the wall. 

“i guess,” mingyu acknowledges, swimming closer, and this time, wonwoo doesn’t have anywhere to go. “but now i’ve got you where i want you.”

“god, stop trying so hard,” wonwoo grumbles before he threads his fingers through mingyu’s hair, walking them backwards to the shallower end. “so are we going to do this or what?” 

the next kiss is rougher than the first had been, mingyu’s teeth scraping against wonwoo’s lip and wonwoo’s back shoved against the wall. his fingers find purchase on mingyu’s dress shirt, now dripping wet and clinging to his body. 

suddenly, mingyu pulls away, his eyes wide, and wonwoo’s about to ask what’s wrong when mingyu starts fumbling around in his pockets. he doesn’t stop, and wonwoo squints at him in the dim glow of the pool lights.

“what… are you doing?” 

“found it!” mingyu exclaims, holding out a small bottle, and wonwoo’s jaw slackens.

“prepared much?”

“very.” mingyu uncaps the bottle, pouring a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers. “uh, so can you take off your pants for me?” 

“so romantic.” wonwoo peels his pants off and tosses them behind him. there’s a wet slap on the deck when they land, but he doesn’t have the time to care— mingyu’s surging forward, kissing him again and pressing a hand in between his thighs. 

wonwoo moans, long and low, when a finger circles his entrance and presses inside, and mingyu smiles against his lips as he adds another finger and scissors them together. he hooks his legs around mingyu’s waist, rolling his hips back against mingyu’s fingers, and reaches down to drag mingyu’s zipper down. 

“i’ve got you,” mingyu repeats, brushing wonwoo’s hair out of his eyes as he lines himself up and pushes in.

the night air is cold and the water around them is even colder, but all wonwoo can feel is a searing heat racing from his fingers down to his toes. it’s a heat that only gets hotter when mingyu takes wonwoo in hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts, it’s not long before mingyu’s coming with a whine barely muffled in wonwoo’s shoulder, and wonwoo follows him soon after, spilling into mingyu’s fist. 

“that wasn’t too bad, was it?” mingyu asks, breathless, his voice high.

“no, but i’m never swimming in here again,” wonwoo says, darting forward to give mingyu one last peck before clambering out of the pool. “ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of their teasers lmao i love wet mingy!!!!! also based off of some v spicy drawings ;-)) sry about the fragmenty-ness, i wrote this in bits and didn't have the time or inspiration to finish it in full T__T sorry! i hope it was enjoyable (???) nonetheless lol


	12. part of your world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the little mermaid au // mingyu wants to be part_of_your_world.mp3

mingyu has always loved the shore.

for as long as he can remember, he’s gone up to the surface to observe the humans— to watch the lights of their celebrations, to hear the sounds of their festivities, to pretend that he’s there with them. it’s a world that he wants to be a part of, but it’s a world that he knows that he can’t ever truly join.

he looks down at the iridescent scales scattered up and down the length of his tail, and it makes a splash when he moves it back and forth in the water. the ocean is still this time of night, when all of the waves are calm and quiet and there’s nothing to see except the broad expanse of blue. it’s nearly the exact opposite of what’s happening on land, and mingyu hates it.

he aches to go closer, to see the faces of the revelers and to hear the songs they’re playing, but he knows it’s a bad idea. there’s a wound running down the length of his back that he’d gotten on an exercusion gone awry, when he’d gotten nicked by the motor of one of those human boats. it’s healed over by now, and aside from a barely noticeable scar that’s just a little lighter in color compared to the rest of his body, there’s nothing to remind him that that had ever happened. 

his friends had reamed him for it when he’d swum back to their kingdom, leaving red trails of blood behind him. _don’t keep chasing death_ , minghao had murmured into his ear as seokmin bandaged his side with long strips of seaweed. _we need you here._ he’d pursed his lips back then, flattened his mouth into a thin line, and refused to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, they were right— that maybe, he could spend the rest of his days as the prince of the kingdom his ancestors had built so many millennia ago. 

but he knows it’s not the life he wants to lead. it’s exhausting eating the same fishy dishes every day, seeing the same blue-tinted faces every hour, hearing the same bubbling noises every second. he wants to be where the smells are delicious and the sights are beautiful and the sounds are indescribable. he wants to walk with legs, to feel the sand beneath his feet, to feel the wind rushing through his hair as he runs. 

he wants it all, but he can’t have it. with a last lingering look at the shoreline and a splash of his tail, mingyu goes back down to what he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [thx bb](https://twitter.com/tnys17/status/900237272280428544)
> 
> was supposed to be longer but my inspiration puttered out :( ww makes a great prince eric tho


	13. at the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anastasia au // we were strangers setting out on a journey

there are gaps in wonwoo’s memories— he doesn’t remember too much of his past, doesn’t remember the faces of his mother and father, doesn’t remember the house he grew up in as a child. but he knows he must’ve had it all at one point. he knows he must’ve had a mother and a father and a home to call home, but he doesn’t _remember_.

all wonwoo remembers are the bright walls of the orphanage. the nurses had tried to make it feel like home, but it hadn’t been home at all, not when his siblings came and went with the seasons. he’d never been adopted, and once he’d turned eighteen he’d packed his scant belongings and bought a ticket north from changwon to seoul.

it’s a decision he’s starting to regret, since there’s a guy at the train station who just won’t _leave him alone_.

“can you maybe not stand so close to me?” wonwoo half-asks, half-grits out, backing away from the man who’s currently too close in his personal space for him to be completely comfortable. he’s circling wonwoo, his eyes roving over wonwoo’s body, and something about this entire situation makes the hair on the back of wonwoo’s neck stand on end. “were you a vulture in another life?”

“has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like the prince?” the man asks instead, smiling in what wonwoo thinks is supposed to be a charming way.

“what?”

“you know, the youngest son of the royal family, the one who managed to escape the coup by the military, blah blah blah. i hear the only remaining members of the royal family are offering a huge sum of money for his safe return.” the man leans closer. “yeah, you look a lot like him. my name’s mingyu. say, why don’t we work together? you come with me to seoul and pretend to be the kid, and we’ll split the reward money. deal?”

wonwoo narrows his eyes at the guy, adjusting the straps of his backpack before he spins on his heel and starts walking in the opposite direction. he can hear the guy yelling at him to come back, but he doesn’t really care— he doesn’t have time for these kinds of crazy ideas anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was supposed 2 b longer..... lost motivation............. check out twitter user tnys17 for all your anastasia wonwoo needs ;))


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